Quarantine
by Happy for Deep People
Summary: A look at the world through the eyes of the ARC team. Connor's caused a quarantine. Contains some fun stuff, some deep stuff and some downright random stuff! Conby, Jenutter, possibly some other pairings. :
1. Chapter 1: Connor's Musings

**I don't own my darling Primeval**

**(Ours is a relationship of mutual love and respect!)**

_Some days,_ thought Connor Temple, as some sort of Primordial Swamp fluid dripped off the tips of his fingers, _I feel like jacking in this job and becoming an accountant like Mum wanted._

Holding his hand in front of his face in pure disgust, he attempted to scrape some of the goo off himself with a swab.

"That'll have to go back to the lab for testing", Abby Maitland, ARC animal handler and Official Number One on Connor's _Dream Girlfriend_ list, nagged him.

"I know Abby. Damn it, and there was me hoping to make a few quid selling Miracle Swamp Goo down the market on Saturday!"

Connor gave a cheeky eyebrow-waggle. "You're just too clever for me, Abby Maitland!"

Abby grinned. "Out of curiosity, what do you think Miracle Swamp Goo would actually be good for?"

Connor's cheesy salesman smile dropped just a little, but returned wider than ever, "Oh it's a tonic, a restorative, a miraculous tincture, good for what ails ya, with next to no unpleasant side effects: one spoonful of this frankly incredible Goo and you'll feel ten years younger and be two dress sizes smaller!"

Abby sniggered, "_That,_ Connor is the most convincing rubbish I've ever heard! You'll give those clueless old blokes in the town square a run for their money!"

"Why thank you, Ms. Maitland. Should we ever be fired in spectacularly bad grace from this charming job," – Connor waggled his slimy hand sarcastically – "You will be welcome to join me in my business venture – after we get the funds for it from selling our stories to the tabloids, obviously."

"What's that about the tabloids?"

_Jenny Lewis has such intelligent ears_, Connor thought. _She can pick up on any media related discussion within a hundred paces. Maybe she has her own version of the ADD, only for news... What would she call it? _

_Jenny's... Unofficial – 'cause she's always saying stuff's "off the record" - Jenny's Unofficial Gossip Surveyor: JUGS for short! And how appropriate, that top's a bit low-cut... No! Bad! Focus on the face! _

Connor mentally smacked himself in the head. Jenny was speaking – and a quick glance told him that both Abby and Jenny herself had clocked his unconsciously wandering eye.

_Hell_, Connor thought. _Absolute pigging, blithering idiotic "oh-please-kill-me-now" hell!_

"Oh no no no no no no no!" Jenny, no! I didn't mean to look there – at them – at you –" Conner spread his still-slimy hands in what he hoped was a pacifying gesture. "Umm... Forsooth, mine eyes doth rove of their own accord..."

"What?" Jenny asked, trying to decide whether to settle for anger or amusement.

"It's an, um, quote. Literary reference."

Amusement had won this. "From what, Shakespeare?"

"_The Simpsons_ actually." Connor had built a mental brick wall and was banging his head off it.

The girls broke. Abby was first to go with a snort of mirth, with Jenny following with a titter. And before Connor knew what had happened they were both shrieking with mirth.

"Ohh Connor!" Abby wheezed, "I never thought anything could be funnier than the sight of your face after getting slimed by that creature but you've topped it! And in the same day, too!"

Jenny was about to add something, but in that moment all mirth was erased from the ARC teams' faces. Sirens went off – but not the usual red flashing sirens which screamed anomaly. These were green.

"Oh bugger", Connor muttered.

James Lester surveyed his minions from the balcony in front of his office. As usual his expression was one of casual disdain.

"Alright." He said, every perfectly enounced syllable oozing sarcasm. "Which idiot has tracked some kind of infectious creature poo into the ARC?"

An – understandably - nervous looking lab technician joined him. "It seems a sample brought in by a member of the field team contains a virus which is destructive to the species from our most recent anomaly," the man stammered.

"We don't know if it'll be harmful to humans, but unfortunately the ARC shuts down in to automatic quarantine in such a situation. I'm afraid you'll all be here a while."

"Perfect," Lester groaned. "A whole night lost to the company of the Scooby Doo gang! I'll be in my office."

Perhaps it was Connor's imagination but he was sure Lester shot him a look on his way back to his office. Connor hid his hands behind his back.

To be honest he didn't know what everyone was moaning about. Quarantines could be pretty fun at times. Lester had a backup team just twiddling their thumbs at the Home Office and waiting for such an opportunity to arise, so the work was covered.

Last quarantine, Connor remembered nostalgically, he and some of the security boys had gotten a little tipsy on Cutter's secret whiskey stash, and he'd ended up winning three hundred quid at poker – until one of the security guys had started looking overly fond of his rifle, at which point Connor became incredibly generous, and returned the cash.

"Nice going Connor," Abby said, but she was smiling and her gorgeous blue eyes were glittering.

_Someday... Someday I'll tell her... Wait... she's saying something! Oh God, I'm not staring at breasts again, am I? No still on her face, so what? Focus, dude, focus._

"What are you thinking Connor?"

"I was just wondering... Nah it's stupid."

"What, Con?"

"Just wondering... Do you ever consider giving this up? Going home and living a normal life with chips and tea and video games and the right amount of sleep at night?"

Abby chewed her lip. "Sometimes. When I see another innocent creature slaughtered, or a member of the team... hurt."

Abby's eyes glittered again, but with tears this time. For Stephen.

"But when I finally get home, I feed Rex, maybe play a bit of Mario Kart with you and I think_ I am so lucky_."

"Why?"

"'Cause my experiences at the ARC have been amazing! I've seen things nobody else on Earth has seen! And yeah it's hard but... But it's also _so_ amazing. And if I hadn't got involved I wouldnt've met Rex. Or the other special someone in my life..."

Connor frowned, taking the mick a bit, "I never knew you and Lester were so close."

"I mean you, you muppet!" Abby pressed her lips against Connor's cheek.

_Wow. Is a peck on the cheek supposed to last that long? Her lips are really soft. Wow._

Connor broke the hug and Abby looked down coyly, then up again, blushing.

"Abby, I-"

"Connor..."

"I really wanna say..."

"_Connor!"_

"Abby I'm trying to bear me soul here, what is it?"

"Your fly's down."

_Kill me. Please let an anomaly open, with something nasty with teeth just waiting to kill me._

"Brilliant." Connor Temple walked away, leaving Abby trying to contain her giggles. He approached Jenny, with just one thing on his mind.

"Jenny? You know lots of middle-class business people, right? Know of any openings for an accountant?"


	2. Chapter 2: Cutter's Losses

**Part Two Has Arrived!**

**(Please review for me, it makes me so happy x)**

**This is for all the fans who just knew something had to happen between Jenny and Nick.**

**I don't own this shiny shiny show – unless history got rewritten and made it so!**

The First love of Nick Cutter's life was his job. But even Cutter had limits. And to be stuck in the ARC for a whole night tested his limits.

It would've been alright, had he got some work to get on with. But he didn't... Not one newly discovered sub-species to catalogue, not one of Lester's huge Yellow Pages- style forms to fill out. Nada.

Cutter sighed heavily and made his way to the cabinet marked _Differential Fluxgate Magnetometer: Delicate, Please Do Not Touch_. Cutter chuckled. He'd never yet met anyone – save perhaps Helen – who knew what the long winded term actually meant.

In actual fact the only important part of the sign was the first letter. D. "D" for Differential.

"D" for Drambuie.

"D" for drunk. Which, surely was the only way Nick Cutter was going to survive the night.

Nick opened the cupboard, his mouth already watering for the taste of Whisky, and all the memories he associated with it.

_The smell of it from his Dad's glass, back home in Barrhead – surely a million years ago._

_The way he reeked of it after his Stag Night with Steven._

_The surprising way it tasted, on the lips of a strange women called Claudia Brown, who kissed him in a bar, for no apparent reason._

_The way it felt to drown in it, when Helen left him; when Claudia vanished; when Steven died... So many loved ones just disappeared..._

_Gone._

It was gone! Cutter jolted out of his reverie to find himself staring at a bare cupboard.

"Connor!" he growled. There was no other explanation.

Not only did Connor probably _know _what a Differential Fluxgate Magnetometer was, he probably _owned_ one. Hence knowing that it wasn't anything Cutter could keep in a cupboard. And come to think of it, hadn't he seen Connor and some of the security grunts looking a bit tipsy last quarantine?

He chuckled in a dark, exasperated sort of way, wondering why this sort of thing always happened at moments such as these. He jumped a mile as he felt the hand on his shoulder.

"Jenny! My God, you made me jump out my skin," he said, catching his breath from the fright. He was too much in his own head these days, that was the trouble.

"Sorry", Jenny smiled sheepishly – it was when she was sheepish she looked most like Claudia Brown, " I didn't mean to sneak up."

"What do you want?" It came out far more brusque than Cutter intended it. "Sorry", he said in a gentler tone, " I just had bigger plans for my evening than this."

"How long have you been working in the ARC?" Jenny teased, "No more plans, except those of the retirement sort. Surely you've realised that by now?"

"True. So true. But I don't even have any work to occupy my night – I'm worryingly up to date."

"Wow. Are you OK Cutter? I don't think I've ever known you up to date on anything, the whole time I've been here!"

"Yeah. Unfortunately it only seems to happen on nights like this."

"I know. And I also know how your other planned pass time went out the window about three months ago – Connor's a hilarious drunk."

From behind her back she pulled a large bottle of Golden Liquid – Drambuie, excellent vintage – with a big red bow on the neck.

"Happy Quarantine," Jenny smiled. It was so genuine and joyful that Cutter longed to take her in his arms. _So often I only see the stressed business woman_, he realised. _This is Jenny Lewis when her guard is down. She's so different from Claudia._

He'd never thought like that, he realised. He'd only seen their identical faces, never fully appreciating what lay underneath. He was an archaeologist, wasn't it his job to dig deeper?

Claudia was one woman always constant – in her job, her day to day, and her personal life, she was pure, simple Claudia Brown. Like a tall, cool drink of water. Refreshingly transparent, and gentle.

But when Jenny came into his life it was like drops of oil on the water – Jenny pressed herself onto the surface of Claudia, but they were so different in essence.

Jenny was like the Janus of Roman Myths. One face for Lester, one for the public, one for managing the team – presumably one for this former fiancé of hers... And maybe one for him? Cutter wondered if what he was seeing here was the real Jenny.

"Do you want to join me in a drink?" He asked, smiling as appealingly as he could, not expecting much.

"Sure. I'd love it! I mean, if you mind me being here..."

"No, please, sit," Cutter swept a pile of papers off his couch and they sat side by side.

Over the following hours Jenny Lewis and Nick Cutter talked. And if Cutter felt like he was talking to two different women he never showed it. And if either of them wondered why none of the team came or went they never voiced it.

Cutter talked and talked. In a way he hadn't talked in so long. _It's funny_, he mused. _I never realise I'm lonely until someone enters my life._

Jenny glanced up from the half empty bottle of spirits.

"Perhaps we should stop drinking at that."

"Yeah... Thanks Jenny."

"Oh, what for?"

"For the Whiskey... For..." He came up short on words. "Oh, I was never too good at verbal communication, anyway."

And before she could respond he mashed his lips to hers. At first all Cutter could think was, _No time, no time, never enough time to waste. Always losing someone – Nobody wants to stay._

The kisses fell frantic on Jenny's mouth, desperate, and only when Cutter realised that she wasn't running, or disappearing did he slow, savouring every kiss and caress.

This wasn't like with Claudia – new tastes, smells, sensations were all imprinting themselves on Cutter's senses for later.

When he dreamed tonight it would be of Jenny Lewis: Maybe he could finally put the woman of his memories behind him.

Reluctantly they broke the kiss, breathless and trembling.

"Nick..." she whispered on shaking lips.

"Jenny Lewis," he murmured, unknowing of the way Jenny adored his husky Scots burr, "You are so beautiful."

The sound of her own name seemed to snap her out of the bubble they were in.

"Nick I – I should go... This was amazing but we need to keep our professionalism. Perhaps sometime we could meet after work and ... talk."

"Of course." He smiled as she headed for the door, knowing that despite her words, Jenny wouldn't forget their kiss.

She turned as she neared the door, "Nick?"

"Yes Jenny?"

"You called me Jenny Lewis...?" It tailed away, but still sounded like a tentative question.

"Of course I did." Nick Cutter watched her, his wide blue eyes, full of so many emotions Jenny couldn't read.

"Who else would it be?"

**I got shivers writing this!**

**Sorry if it was a little more emotionally hardcore than my last chapter...**

**I just knew something had happened between them which we never saw!**

**Again, I beg you: REVIEW**!


	3. Chapter 3: The Evolution of James Lester

**YAY for Chapter Three!**

**Thanks to all you lovely people who reviewed, favourited, and shot me with updating lasers (Primeverse, I'm looking at you!) Ya'll are what makes Fanfic fun...**

**Again, I don't own Primeval... But I own all the box sets, so close enough!!**

**Enjoy, my babies ;)**

Sir James Lester was doing what he did best – boredom.

It didn't matter how busy he was, Lester could always keep up the appearance that he was dealing with mindless busy work which was far below his intellect.

In fact, as he often cared to share with the bunch of strange misfits and mavericks he rather optimistically called a team, Lester was a brilliant man.

The fact that they were disbelieving in the face of this grand fact was more a reflection of the pig-headed stubbornness his field team exhibited than on Lester's brilliance.

A man like him could not allow such people to tarnish his good reputation in the Ministry. Hence, there he was, day in day out, working hard to mop up the mess anomalies always seemed to cause.

It was up to him to clean up after Cutter's team when they bumbled into yet another half-cocked attempt at heroism... Lester was certain the ARC field team had no idea the amount of paperwork e had to fill out on their behalf.

And they didn't care.

This fact was one that Lester was becoming more and more aware of, as the months passed. At one point he wouldn't have cared, but these days, all the lines of professionalism which Lester had so passionately adhered to were beginning to blur.

At first, it had been so subtle that he himself hadn't noticed the change.

When he finally did realise it, it came in the night, with a bizarre croak... The memory of that night still made tremors shoot up Lester's spine, and yet on this silent night of quarantine he was reliving it. So real in his head that his teeth were clenched, a pain in his stomach.

_I am alone in the cold blue light of the ARC control room... the lights swing as if caught by a sudden breeze, and somewhere beyond my field of vision, a monster crouches in wait._

_It is like no other creature I have seen in past or present – it can only be from beyond the world I know and understand. _

_The noise it makes is like no earthly sound. In its horror it is every worst fear: Every late night horror flick, every ominously creaking door, every muffled footstep in the winter fog. Hearing the creature does not involve the usual senses, but rather I have become hyper-aware, as some deep primal instinct comes into play._

_Suddenly, without even a touch, cuts appear on my body, slicing my chest, neck, arms – even my face. In my head I am running, fighting, screaming, but my body is trapped and I cannot make a sound._

_All I can do is pray: Pray for relief, any relief, whether it comes with huge tusks to impale my tormentor, or in a creased khaki jacket ready to make the monster disappear with his nonsensical, yet somehow faultless logic..._

_But no relief comes, and all I can do is watch as the hideous being moves closer, smelling of death._

_And at the last possible moment I see that it is not a horrific predator – it's only the Professor, his eyes wide with a terror only he seems to understand. He says a name over and over again, a name that means nothing to me._

"_Where's Claudia? Where is Claudia Brown?" he cries frantically, falling to the floor._

_His feverish begging for this woman I do not know soon turns to clicking and croaking – a sound of pain._

_I look away, unable to watch the Professor cowering on the floor in misery, and then there is silence._

_When I look back, I see the tormentor of my nightmare lying on the floor. It is impaled with a gigantic tusk – yet the mammoth is nowhere to be seen. And neither is Cutter._

_With trembling fingers I open the door to the mammoth's containment facility. The electronic cage beeps as the door is opened as wide as it will go._

_All I can see is darkness, and then... Footsteps, footsteps running towards me. They are ragged and irregular, like the mysterious intruder has run for many miles and suffered many hardships._

_Yet I feel no compassion for the wanderer; I know she does not belong in my world – and in her wake she will bring destruction._

_She stumbles into the glaring, cold light and I recognise her... I know this woman... but from where? _

_I see she has the same build, same height as Jennifer Lewis, but the hair is wrong. This stranger has honey-brown hair, not Jenny's glossy chestnut tresses. _

_She wears the smart-casual attire of a business woman in high summer. Her pastel pink shirt and white, tailored trouser suit are immaculate, but the neck and arms are covered in dirt and blood, caked on – it's like the stranger has put on clean, fresh clothes over an battered exhausted body._

_And then I realise. The woman has no face._

_Where her features would be, there is only a shadow, though she is standing in the full glare of the overhead lighting._

_As disturbing as the stranger is, I do not fear her – that may seem foolish but it's true... I fear her presence, granted... but ..._

_I know her. Like someone you see on the street, then pass later in the day somewhere else entirely, I recognise the woman. Though I don't know how._

"_James," she cries, "James, what's happening? Where's Nick?"_

"_Who are you?", I shout, "How do you know me? Where have you come from?"_

"_What are you talking about Lester?" Without a face, her confused tone is surreal, as there is no expression to back it up._

"_It's me... Claudia Brown!"_

_And the stranger explodes, bursting into a thousand pieces of glass, which float in the air, lit up with an ethereal light._

James Lester was jerked back to reality with a jolt, realising that he was clutching the corner of his desk in a death grip. His knuckles were white with effort, and as he let go he had to flex them to restart his circulation.

It was stupid of him really, because it wasn't the dream that was the frightening part – It was what it meant.

Lester remembered it still. And so he should, since the performance of the dream had been repeated every night since his standoff with the future predator.

His tossing, yelling and sweating had driven his poor wife to the spare room – as if his already fragile marriage needed another strain. She was threatening to send him to a psychologist, about the dreams, but Lester wouldn't allow it.

He didn't need a shrink to talk to. He needed Cutter.

That in itself seemed wrong, because his entire time on the Anomaly Project had been founded on the simple concept of avoiding Cutter as much as possible, outside of when they were forced to work as a team.

And for all the management "team building" rubbish, the system worked.

But now it was inevitable – Cutter had been right. For all Lester could dismiss it as a trick of the mind, the sudden feeling of the world being wrong was too powerful to bear.

The memory of Claudia Brown was undeniable. Maybe caused by the shock of his near death experience...?

But Lester was aware that his life, his very existence had been altered in ways he couldn't imagine. Was he really thawing to the team, or was his parallel self (_Who could be some tree-hugging, "talk to me, let me be your buddy" boss_, Lester thought with a shudder) imprinting itself into his psyche like a rubber stamp?

He wasn't certain – Cutter was the Professor, not him, after all – but he could feel it in his heart.

One way or another, James Lester was evolving.

**Loved? Hated? Questions? Demands?**

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	4. Chapter 4: Obviously Abigail Maitland

**Here's My Fourth Chappie!**

**Wow, I never thought I'd get so far. :O**

**Apparently my muse is fond of Primeval...**

**Thanks for your reviews, keep 'em coming!**

**PS, Don't own, except in my dreams.**

There was only one place in the ARC which Abby Maitland considered hallowed ground.

You could find her sitting there once a week – usually a Wednesday, sometimes meditating, sometimes bobbing her head to music, and sometimes – to the clinical observer at least – talking to herself.

All the ARC workers knew her little routine, and they didn't bother her – after all it had all been her idea, and a good one, too.

Everyone at the ARC respected and loved Abby. She was so hard working, gentle and compassionate. She remembered when she had asked her old headmaster to fill out a reference for her job at the zoo – how long ago had that been?

_It feels like I've aged 20 years since then... _Abby thought wryly.

Abby hadn't expected much. She knew she was bright, but she hated being bossed about, and she didn't stand for any bullying. Unfortunately, that had meant a good few fights, resulting in a number of trips to the head's office in bad grace.

So she'd been surprised when the middle-aged man handed her a sheet of paper across his formidable desk, with twinkling eyes, and a twitch of the mouth which indicated _a sense of humour_! Who knew head teachers had them, eh?

Given the smile, she'd been half expecting a joke when she read his reference – but Abby had been in for a surprise.

_Wherever there is a problem, Abby will find a solution. Wherever there is hard work to be done, Abby will be first to dig into it. Whenever someone is not being heard, Abby will raise her voice above the crowd and force others to hear. If you see a big effort put into a small detail, extra work done, good ideas put forward, or a quiet kindness shown, you can bet it will be the work of Abigail Maitland__**.**_

Abby had pinned a copy of the old teacher's reference to her bedroom wall, to remind her in times of stress or trouble that she was Abby Maitland, and she could handle whatever the world had to throw at her.

People were counting on her to be herself.

When Stephen had died, Abby's "Abbyness" had been needed in the team. They were in limbo, an emotionally disembowelled mess, with only their work to unite them.

During quiet moments at the ARC, rather than the laughing and joking that had previously occurred the team drifted away, each dealing with the grief in their own way.

Connor had fiddled infuriatingly with the ADD, checking and double checking every circuit.

He didn't sleep at night, and Abby would hear him pacing up and down the flat muttering about secondary routers and viral shields.

She knew he often felt like a token member of the team, not tough enough or witty enough to be doing field work, so all his energy became centred on tightening his beloved tech systems. Trying to prevent any more failures, that could result in a loss.

Jenny had outwardly been fine – she was always professional, but Abby knew she wasn't cold. She knew it was only a matter of time before she cracked.

Jenny had sat at her computer for hours on end, typing and typing, so fast her fingers were a blur. She must have done enough paperwork to cover years of insurance and data protection.

Then one day, Abby had joined Jenny at her workbench – just to offer her a cup of coffee, no big deal, and seen tears streaming down her face in droves, as her fingers still moved across the keyboard.

Gently, Abby had pulled them away and held her close, not caring if mascara streaked down her shirt.

Lester had sat in his office, outwardly as calm and cold as the minimalist decor. It was only when you looked closer that you saw him clutching the corners of his desk in a white-knuckled deathgrip, or squeezing a stress ball so hard it was practically flat.

Cutter had been the worst.

He just sat at his desk, never speaking, rarely even blinking. All he did was stare at nothing, and his bright blue eyes filled up with tears he was too stubborn to let fall.

Abby herself felt the need of a hand to hold, something to anchor her back on earth.

So she had insisted.

Lester had hummed and hawed a bit about the idea, but he had soon caved to her determination.

Thus Abby's place of hallowed ground had been born.

Large climbing roses grew, twined around a metal arch. At the centre of the arch was a plaque:

_The Stephen Hart Memorial_

_This Memorial is dedicated to Stephen Hart, who died on the 4__th__ of March 2007, aged 32._

_And_

_The brave British soldiers and government personnel who died protecting the present from the dangers of anomalies and incursions from past & future eras._

"_The valiant never taste of death but once."_

_William Shakespeare._

The team had never truly felt comfortable visiting Stephen's graveside. They were all too aware of Helen Cutter's presence – the anachronistic ammonite they found after the funeral was proof that she had been there – and would return.

They had no wish to see her.

After the memorial was built, team morale improved. Each ARC worker developed a little ritual: some left flowers, or a picture of Stephen under it. Others rubbed the plaque before going on a mission.

And every Wednesday, Abby Maitland would chat to Stephen Hart, and remember him. Why Wednesday?

It had been Stephen's favourite day of the week. One day, on a long drive to an anomaly sighting she had casually asked him which was his favourite.

"Wednesday." He had replied.

"Why?" She asked, puzzled. Her own favourite day was Friday – she loved the feeling of kicking back after a long week fighting anomalies. Sure, more often than not she got called away anyway, but still...

"Wednesday is such an optimistic day", Stephen answered, "It's still early in the week so you feel like you have time to achieve your goals, but it also feels close to the end of the week and a little break from the daily grind."

And Abby had agreed with him, as she did on so many things. Stephen was often caught in Cutter's shadow, but he was wise about a lot of things (his dubious choice of lovers aside).

These days, Abby looked back on her days of attraction to him, with fondness, rather than longing. Falling in love with Stephen for that short time had been as much of a learning curve for her as the first time she'd set eyes on a prehistoric creature.

Abby realised now that she hadn't been in love with Stephen, only the idea of love. Being linked with one person in a life-or-death situation makes strong emotions develop. In effect, Abby had been in love with an adrenaline rush.

Luckily for her, Stephen had been gentle, and friendly and Abby's naive infatuation had soon become an easy friendship. And what had begun (on her part, anyway) as an easy friendship had started to slowly develop, in this bewildering way she couldn't quite...

_Stop. Those thoughts are something you shouldn't go into... _

_But he said he loved me..._

_He'd do anything to get you to hang on! You're only gonna mess up your relationship with your best mate..._

_Besides, why are you thinking all this here? You should be thinking about Stephen..._

Abby ignored the clashing thoughts in her head and focused on the little picture of Cutter and Stephen.

It had been taken before Cutter had entered the anomaly: before the revelation of Helen and Stephen's affair, before Cutter had come back a different man. The two friends looked cheerful and carefree, slightly cocky and...

_Young_, Abby thought, _They look young._

"Hey Stephen", Abby murmured, plonking herself cross legged on the floor in front of the memorial.

"There's a song called that just out – _Hey Stephen_, by Taylor Swift. Maybe you'd like it, you always were a secret country fan... Then again maybe not.

"Stephen... I wish you were here to talk to right now. Although if you were, I'd probably feel sort of too awkward to say it. Lately I've been feeling... Different. It's all that prat Connor's fault, obviously!

" You know he caused a Quarantine, Stephen? Got slimed by some big worm thing and now we're stuck here for goodness knows how long. Unlucky isn't the word..."

Why was it so hard for Abby to just spit it out? The man she was talking to wasn't even here, and yet... She felt his presence. She knew that Stephen Hart wasn't really in the cemetery under the simple wooden cross his will had specified.

This job had consumed Stephen's life, he felt such passion for it and it ate him up. That, and his irrational love for Helen Cutter.

Abby clenched her fists in anger at the thought of that woman. But her anger gave her words.

"Love's a funny old thing, Stephen. You can start off thinking you're in love in with someone, then one day you wake up and realise it was someone else all along.

"Or else you love someone with the exact same passion as you hate them. You might not know why you're so drawn to that person, when part of them repulses you, but you can't control the draw. That kind of love always burns you out.

"That was your real cause of death, wasn't it Stephen? It should have said it on your death certificate _Cause of Death: Helen Cutter_.

"If you believe Cutter's ramblings the whole universe is in flux, and not even love is safe from it. You can wake up one day and your lover has the same face, but different memories, stories, a different _life_.

"Then there's love like yours and Cutter's. Mates. Best mates. Not even your affair got in the way of that, not really. I wish you could be around to guide him now, he's a mess without you.

"Try not to worry, though. Jenny's got him in hand. I swear, someday soon those two will become an item.

"You're missing so much, Stephen, really.

"But I want to apologise today. For thinking I was in love with you. For all the guilt-trips and jealous looks and the times I blanked you.

"So I'm sorry Stephen. I know what love really feels like – at least I _think_ I do and... whatever our little brief thing was... It wasn't real love."

Connor cleared his throat behind her.

"Great minds think alike. I needed to talk to him too, tonight," he said gruffly.

Abby smiled, trying to pretend she wasn't on the verge of one _serious_ crying jag.

"It's okay to miss him Abby... You've been so strong through all of this but... even the unconquerable Abby needs to cry every now and then."

Whether it was Connor's kind words or his big brown puppy-dog eyes, Abby's self control broke down, and the brick barrier of tears she'd been holding together flooded out as she threw herself into Connor's arms.

"Stephen wouldn't want you to feel this way, Abby. He'd want us all to move on. To fight the anomalies and make sure nobody else gets hurt... But that doesn't mean you need to wall up all your feelings. And you know I'm always here for you."

"Thanks Connor. Just... promise you'll always be around... yeah?"

Connor sighed, faking irritation and grinned down at the pretty blonde with mascara-streaked cheeks.

"You know Abby, for someone great looking, clever, and smart, you can be really thick sometimes? To that particular stupid question, the answer's always gonna be the same: _obviously_ Abigail Maitland!"

**Sorry if it was a bit long!**

**I just think that Abby never gets studied in depth, emotionally, and that tie with Stephen seemed to disappear all too easily for my liking.**

**Please keep reviewing, I want to get to at least Chapter 5.**

**(then I'll do a Chapter 5 dance around my room :P)**


	5. Chapter 5: The Jenny Effect

**CHAPTER FIVE DANCE! *UH HUH, UH HUH***

**This is for everyone who begged me for another Nick/Jenny fic.**

**(Happy to oblige)**

**Sorry this one took a bit longer, my muse was being lazy.**

**I don't own Primeval... or **_**DO**_** I? No wait... That's right, I don't.**

The team had been trapped in the ARC since 5pm. It was now 10. Each member of the ARC personnel had found their own amusements.

Abby was painting her nails very slowly and carefully. There were four bottles on the desk in front of her, along with a bottle of remover and some cotton buds. The look on her face was one of intense concentration – her tongue was poking out between her teeth and her eyes were slightly crossed.

Connor was riding a skateboard in circles round the control room – or trying to, at least. As Jenny watched, he stumbled off it, landing in a heap of hat, gloves and scuffed Converse trainers.

In a breathless fluid movement, Connor leapt to his feet, looking embarrassed.

"Meant it guys!" he called to no one in particular, cheeks flushing as he saw Jenny raise her eyebrows. "Meant it..."

Jenny chuckled to herself before stepping into Lester's office. Cutter was already in there. They had been "summoned".

Lester had his eyes closed, and was pinching the bridge of his nose with a pained expression.

_Why does he always look as if there's a raptor chomping down hard on his unmentionables?_ Jenny wondered.

As Jenny stepped into the room, Cutter glanced up – it had obviously started out as a subconscious glance, but he stayed looking.

Jenny felt a blush creep up her neck as she watched his pupils dilate and his eyes wander slowly, _appraisingly_, over her, lighting on her legs, her chest. It felt awkward, but at the same time... _good_. Six months ago, a look like that would have earned the Professor a good hard slap, but so much had changed.

She still couldn't quite take it all in. _He kissed me_, she thought, _And I let him. And I liked it. What does that mean? Oh God, what a mess. Lester's all we need right now._

"Ah. Jenny. Excellent," Lester said, clear and businesslike as always, " I needed to speak with you and Cutter personally."

Silence. Cutter was still staring at her. She widened her eyes at him, but the look didn't seem to register in his brain.

Lester cleared his throat loudly, and Cutter jumped. Jenny had to hide a grin – he looked like a schoolboy. Love suited him - it took years off him.

_Love._

_Did I just think love in the context of Nick Cutter? No... Surely not. _

_I did._

_Oh, God._

But Lester was speaking once again. She would agonise over _that word_ later.

"I've called you both up here because, not to beat about the bush, I am concerned. I was sitting here, minding my own business, when I got a call from Hodges here," Lester gestured to the armed soldier in ARC fatigues standing to his right.

"Hodges, showed me this." Lester pointed a tiny remote control at the big flat-screen on the wall.

_Oh no._

There, in full view of an ARC camera were Nick and Jenny. Mouths pressed together, sharing a passionate kiss.

Jenny squashed the tiny part of her mind that was saying, _We look good_, and tried to focus on the potentially career-crushing implications of what Lester was showing them.

Nick watched the screen, and once again looked hypnotised. Subtly Jenny reached for his hand, but rather than holding it, pinched the soft skin of his palm, _hard_.

Once again, Cutter jerked back to reality.

Lester pressed another button and the screen went black. "I think we've seen enough."

Jenny closed her eyes and looked down, not caring that she looked like a schoolgirl in disgrace.

The room was silent for a tense minute. Lester leaned back in his chair, making hard eye contact with Cutter, Hodges looked amused – _Like a cat that got the cream_, Jenny thought, _I always knew he was a bit of a lech_. Jenny herself, simply inspected the carpet.

It seemed like this tense, disapproving silence would last for an eternity. When it was finally broken it was not by Lester's inevitable tirade.

_Furrrrt!_

Lester turned to Hodges, "What was that?"

The soldier looked embarrassed. "Ah... Nothing sir. I didn't hear anything."

But the soldier's fib could not cover the scent that was pervading Sir James' office.

Cutter looked down trying to hide the smirk on his face as Lester's contorted in disgust.

"I think our friend Hodges doesn't deal too well with pressure. Which, for a soldier is very unusual."

Lester took a deep breath through his mouth, "Was this abomination in the air _you,_ Hodges?"

The soldier was red faced – clearly ashamed. "Yes sir. I'm afraid it was."

Lester was speechless. But that only lasted a moment.

"Call yourself a soldier? Get out of my office!"

Jenny wanted to laugh, but Hodges' bad smell had spread through the whole room by now, and she was fighting the urge to gag.

_What has the man been eating? Rotten egg curry? _

"Allow me," Jenny heard, from beside her. She turned to find Cutter handing her a white cotton handkerchief, which she gratefully took and pressed over her mouth. His other hand was digging around in his jacket.

When he finally produced a box of matches, and lit one, the smell became bearable. A second match and it was gone. Lester sighed with relief, and produced a can of air freshener from his desk.

"Just being thorough! But now to more serious matters. Assuming that what I've just seen is the truth, and not something fabricated by Hodges – which we can only assume is correct. After all, the man's barely capable of containing his own gaseous exchange, let along forging CCTV footage. Assuming you pair really were _canoodling_ in Cutter's lab... What does this mean for the ARC operation?"

The room was silent, as Jenny and Cutter mulled the question over.

Cutter was first to speak, and he did so in typical Nick Cutter fashion.

"And just what in hell has it got to do with you?"

"Everything Cutter! If you pair start up an office romance, it could seriously impact the team's operations. Your judgement will continually be clouded by Miss Lewis, and your mind not on the job!"

Cutter looked just about to snap back, but Jenny interrupted before he had a chance.

"If I might speak... What happened between Cutter and I was a private matter. Had we any idea we were being observed in that way, we'd never have done it, I assure you. Nothing has been made official between us, and you can rest assured, James, we intend to keep our professionalism. Right Nick...?"

He still looked like he wanted to offer Lester a piece of his mind, but something in the touch of Jenny's hand on his shoulder, and the look in her brown eyes stopped him. He forced a smile.

"Yeah. Yeah, absolutely."

"Excellent," Lester said, "That's exactly what I wanted to hear. That'll be all."

"Actually, one more thing," Nick said, as they turned towards the glass door, "I'd appreciate it if you refrained from mentioning any of this to the team. Please."

Lester smirked. "Of course. And can I just say, Cutter, I was surprised to see you engaged in such activities. I was under the impression that you were still utterly besotted with this Claudia Brown person."

There was an unspoken question in his eyes which Jenny couldn't quite figure out. But she was too interested in Cutter's reaction to pay much attention to Lester.

"I've moved on Lester. Jenny can be very... persuasive. As you know, of course. Even you've told me you find her "impressive". And you want a PR person to bring you around to new ideas. She has well and truly won me over."

Lester smiled, just a little, but it _was_ a smile.

"Well, Jenny. You are to be congratulated on winning round even the stubborn Scottish mule that is Professor Cutter. I don't know _how_ you do it, I really don't."

He was already turning over a document – they were evidently being dismissed, but Cutter had one more thing to say:

"As a scientist, I thought I should coin a term for it. I like to call it "The Jenny Effect".

And as they left Lester's office, Jenny touched his hand once more – only this time it wasn't to pinch him.

**Hope it was as fun to read as it was to write!**


	6. Chapter 6: The Uninvited Stranger

**I trust everyone has heard the miraculous news??**

**For those who haven't I'm just gonna scream it:**

_**PRIMEVAL RETURNS 2011!!!! SQUEEEEEEEEE!!!!**_

**When I heard, I was in English – I nearly broke a computer screen with suppressed joy.**

**Proof that **_**COMPLAINING WORKS**_**! Roll on 2011, is all I'm saying!**

**Man, all this joy really makes me wanna write a chapter – so on with the show :)**

**(PS Don't own – if I did I'd make it, like a year sooner!)**

It really was too easy... they were supposed to be intelligent men and women, and yet they were utterly incapable of seeing through this, most simple of schemes...

They were a good team, though. Even she had to concede...A perfect dynamic – the bumbling sidekick; the pretty, plucky young girl; the business like girl-next-door; the passionate leader, with the "love-to-hate" boss always on their backs pushing them to new achievements.

Of course the dynamic had been even better once – now there was something missing from the team.

What they needed was a man with a strength and confidence which flowed out of every pore.

What they needed was a man who would take the hits.

A man who would enter without a thought; but never thoughtlessly.

A man who would give his life with a joke – like it was getting in a round, or giving a mate a lift home.

A man who could stand like the centre of a target without cowering in fear, as like arrows they came for him – straight, true, sharp... like a bullet from a gun – _bullseye_.

The woman who stood in shadow shuddered, then wriggled her shoulders almost gruffly, shaking the painful thought from her mind.

In short, what the ARC team required was a Stephen.

That they didn't have him was one of the many cruel tricks the harsh world played on human lives.

_How strange_, thought the stranger, _that I should consider myself human after all this time. So much time and effort spent in reducing myself to the basest, quickest instincts and still this clinging, hooking little voice remains. _

_I had hoped I could outrun humanity – become like a raptor – beautiful, graceful and terrible. To be an animal would be so deliciously simple – to feed, drink, sleep, mate without obligation of any kind. Yet these tiresome emotions... how they betray me._

_Nick, Stephen – love, lust. Leek, Lester – irritation, hatred. Even Claudia Brown (or, I suppose Jenny Lewis) equates to envy and a feeling of betrayal._

_How predictably human. Perhaps there really is no escape – if that's the case then what am I? Who am I? Not human, quite, but nor am I completely inhuman. And homeless – dead, even. Legally dead to the world in which I was born._

_Maybe I am the last of my kind. Or the first. Who can tell anymore?_

The stranger never allowed self-pity to cloud her judgement. Her eyes were always emotionless.

At one time the stranger had had a name – she'd been part of a similar dynamic to the one she now watched from the sidelines.

At one time the stranger had been a wife, a daughter – she'd even toyed with motherhood, before she realised that any child she could have would always come second to the itching in her feet and the tug of the wind in her hair.

Then, one day the stranger had found a secret – something so incredible she'd thought she was going mad. Maybe she had gone mad... perhaps she was insane even now. So frequently she felt herself looking down upon herself in puzzlement, like an out of body experience. The stranger wanted to ask herself "Why are you doing that? Don't go that way! Don't touch that... Touch that again, don't walk away."

Was that a sign of madness? Was she as crazy as these children of the ARC said of her? Because to her they were children. The stranger was millions upon millions of years old and lately she'd be feeling every day of them.

She looked out on the team, who were laughing together, as they gathered round a workbench. She observed each of them, with all the detachment of a scientist.

_Connor Temple – Oh, See how he laughs. It's a much freer sound these days. The boy is coming out of his shell and becoming a man –friends of Nick's have a habit of doing that. And he grows more confident every day with the girl – Abby. He seems to be growing on her... _

_Abby Maitland, so passionate, so strong. I can admire the girl, with her love of animals, and her powerful ability for empathy. Endless optimism... but that won't last long. Not in the business of anomalies. Poor girl, I used to be like her..._

_Jenny Lewis, is simply a fascination. That the universe can alter around one life is so astounding even my mind reels. I could study the woman forever, if only I didn't feel that bizarre urge to harm her – like the illogical urge to throw yourself over a steep precipice, or kick someone when they're in your way. Surely not jealousy of the way her hand just brushed Nick's, or the blush on her cheeks as it happened. No, surely not..._

_Nick Cutter: Nick... is Nick, so changed yet somehow still the same, even after so long. Not even I can be as objective, as cold towards him as he thinks. He isn't just some experiment, after all – he's my husband... _

The stranger looked for the fifth member of the group, and then remembered.

_There is no presence at Nick's right hand any longer. There is only a place where Stephen isn't._

She felt moisture build up in her eyes and widened them till they achieved the look of a glassy-eyed stare.

The stranger thought of the endless security issues – for something supposedly so high-security, it was ridiculously easy to enter.

She smiled as she heard voices from the room she observed.

"Connor, why is the detector unplugged?"

"Is it? Which idiot did that? Oh. Wait. It _may_ have _possibly_ been me pulling out the plug when my skateboard ran over it... Oops! Sorry, Cutter I'll get it back online pronto."

The stranger watched the device flare into life with a condescending smile. A child's toy in comparison to the things she had at her fingertips.

Connor spoke again, relatively relieved, "Guys, the detector glitch is fine – there was an anomaly opened-" the team all looked up "- But don't freak out! It only opened for a few seconds, there was no time for anything to come through."

"You're sure?" Cutter asked.

"Positive. Five seconds, that's all."

"And do we have a location?"

"It closed too briefly to say – somewhere in England, but more precise that that..." He tailed off with a nonchalant shrug.

The stranger smiled. This proved their foolishness. An anomaly could open right under their noses and they'd still be wrapped up in their own little worlds.

The stranger stepped out of the shadows in a swift movement and walked calmly towards the central control room. No one tried to stop her, not even the soldiers. They just stared – she was like a celebrity, how funny.

She entered the wide, minimalist space and walked up to the frozen Cutter. The stranger pecked him on the cheek coldly, like they were two divorcees at a dinner party. His skin was perfectly still, and when she met his eye she saw he was white with rage.

Still her glassy brown eyes remained impassive.

"Hello Nick."

They could have fought fist on fist. He could have ordered the soldiers to shoot her. He could have grabbed the bottle of his favourite Whiskey and smashed her over the head with it, but the fight that came from Nick Cutter all emanated from his eyes. A look that would have crippled a lesser being.

But the stranger, in her mad stare, could meet his eye, even smirk when he finally spoke.

"Hello, Helen."

**Ooh, bit of a cliffy!!**

**Enjoy this? Please review nothing makes me smile like a review!**


	7. Chapter 7: All the Ways to Kill a Cat

**Okay, Okay. HUUUUUGE apology in order!**

**I'm sorry I waited so long to update!**

**I've been very busy studying for, and taking certain uncool examinations :(**

**Anywhoo, finally an end to your cliffhanging agony... Say you'll forgive me and review?**

**(Don't own, unforch.)**

_Click, Click_. The stunned soldiers had finally gotten their acts together. A ring of about twelve men and women stood around Helen and the team, all pointing their guns with wide eyes.

Helen pouted flirtatiously and looked towards Nick with a smile that burnt him to his very soul.

"Look at this, Nick. I'm famous! All this attention for little old me..."

Nick said nothing. He had a lot he _wanted_ to say, but he was incapable. His thoughts were like white noise.

Helen stepped closer to him, winding her scarred, thickly muscled arms around his neck. The tendons of which stood out with tension.

Stunned by this, the soldiers awkwardly cocked their guns – it was hard to look threatening when Helen had him in a tight hold, which rendered them useless – they could not fire without the risk of hitting him. Despite this knowledge, Cutter almost wished they _would_ fire.

In a jerky movement he pulled out of his estranged wife's bizarre embrace.

Her smile dropped just a touch, but was quickly replaced with another, wider smirk.

"What, haven't you missed me... Hubby?"

Cutter found his voice.

"I am not your husband." It came out husky and quieter than he had intended.

"What, Nick?"

"_I am not your husband_!" Cutter yelled the words as months of rage and frustration poured out and gave him a voice at last.

Helen remained infuriatingly calm, as she always did when faced with conflict.

"Oh, but I am Nick. Remember? We married in a little white church, just down the road from your _precious_ university. I wore white, you wore a suit. We went to Skye for our honeymoon and you swore you'd love me for the rest of our lives."

"Yes. I married a woman named Helen. She even looked a bit like you." Cutter walked up to Helen, till his face was pushed into hers, his blue eyes dangerous.

"But my wife died. Nine years ago. She disappeared, somewhere in the Forest of Dean. Sure, it hurt like hell, but I _dealt with it._ And then you came. From a different world, and you _stole everything_! My life, my best friend – you even stole my memories!

"You have poisoned me inside, Helen. With your cheating and lying and double dealing. You're just _sick_. Why do you always come back?"

"Because I miss you, Nick. I miss my husband."

"Look, woman. I am going to say this one more time, and I _really _hope you listen. My. Wife. Died. All you are is a ghost of her, a sick, perverted shade. And you have become many things, Helen, but this I say in complete certainty – _YOU ARE NOT MY WIFE_!"

Cutter stumbled to the floor, trembling. Jenny moved from her frozen position beside the workbench and rushed to him, sliding her arms around him and helping him to his feet.

Nick looked up to see the suave form of Lester walking down the long ramp towards the scene.

Lester gave Cutter's wife a tense – yet bizarrely charming – smile. Once again, it was easy to draw parallels with a dinner party scene.

"Ahh, Mrs Cutter. I see we are to have the pleasure of your company tonight."

"I didn't know you cared, James," Helen replied smoothly.

"Frankly I don't. At all. Merely being polite. Though considering the fact that you are a murderer and conspiracist against the state, there's not a call for it, is there? Also, nobody gave you permission to call me James."

"This is irrelevant, James. Aren't you going to ask how I got in here? The security in this place is a joke."

"Very well, Helen. Enlighten us. How _did_ you get in?" Lester spoke with the indulgent tones of a Primary teacher scolding a wayward five-year old. Cutter had to admire the man's courage.

"Well, it was simple enough. Open an anomaly and step through-" Helen paused as what she had said sunk in.

_Opened an anomaly? But how? What technology does she have?_ Cutter wondered, before it occurred to him that she could be lying. It was her style to lie about such things, playing the team off against each other for technology which didn't exist.

_Yes_, he thought, _Exactly her style_.

"- However, I had thought you would at least be forewarned by your detector. Apparently not. Enjoy your skating, Connor?"

"Connor!" Cutter growled under his breath, for the second time this long night. Connor flushed, but held Helen's gaze, his face thunderous. Abby's and Jenny's both mirrored his expression of revulsion.

"Yes, very well," Lester sighed impatiently, "But your company is not something I crave right now, I'm already in a bad mood. Shoot her."

This last was addressed to the soldiers, but as they cocked their weapons, Helen sprang at Abby, taking her in a tight chokehold and holding her like a shield in front of her body. Abby struggled, trying to hit out, feet and fists flailing, but Helen held her fast.

"Don't do it, soldier boys," Helen chuckled, "If you stand any chance of killing me that way, it'll only be because your bullets have gone straight through Abby and out the other side. So I'd advise you to think very carefully before you pull the trigger."

"Yes, that's all very clever of you, Helen", Cutter said angrily, "But since you now have a hostage situation of sorts, how about telling us what you actually _want_. Why are you here tonight?"

Connor slowly edged nearer to where Helen held Abby. One hand was in his pocket. He made brief-eye contact with Cutter.

_Surely...? Yes_. Cutter nodded almost imperceptibly as Helen replied.

"To speak to you Nick. To offer you another chance to join me. I know you must be hurting, and whatever else I am, I'm still _human_-"

"Arguable!" Abby spat, in her arms.

"Hush now", Helen said spitefully, placing a hand firmly over Abby's mouth. "I'm hurting too, Nick. I want to join you in your grief, and be with you again. I think it's what Stephen would have wanted."

_Keep talking, keep talking..._

"Forgive me if I say you're talking crap, Helen. You have no right to say what Stephen would have wanted, and after everything that's happened you really think we could _ever_ be together? After all this madness, is there any way for us to be together? No. And you know that. I think there's some other reason for you being here. And I just have to figure out what it is."

"Think what you like Nick", Helen spat, "I can't say I'm inclined to stick around to be treated like this."

_Almost there, now. So close._

"Nah! Stay! We can catch up. Let me tell you, since the last time we met, I've altered a lot of my ideas about the world. You're not the only one who's changed Helen. Working here has caused me to see things I never dreamed of, be open to ideas, emotions everything. It's fantastic!"

_Just a little more..._

" There was this one thing I always thought was set in stone. One rule I kept to. But I've evolved. Helen, just like you. I changed my mind."

Helen's eyes widened in shock, as cold metal slammed against her temple.

"I let Connor have a gun."

"Put Abby down. _Now_," Connor said.

Cutter could see Connor trembling with rage, as his finger itched on the trigger. Helen dropped Abby and she scrambled away. The rest of the field team stepped away from where Connor held the woman.

Swiftly, Helen turned, so the gun pressed right between her eyes.

"Would you Connor? Could you kill me right here, as I looked you in the eye? Do you think that's why Nick gave you the gun? No. It was to save lives, wasn't it? And you _so_ want to make Nick happy. Like he's the Daddy you never had. _Sweet_."

Connor's whole body trembled, and the muscles in his jaw popped as he fought with himself.

"You killed Stephen." He said, voice cracking.

"Did I? Really? It was the creatures, Connor, not me. I wanted to save him as much as anyone."

"But you _didn't_ save him! You let him go into that room to die. And you would've killed him if he'd stood in your way. But I'm not like you. Give me the cuffs."

A soldier stepped forward and cuffed Helen's wrists behind her back. Connor dropped the gun. Abby ran to him, throwing her arms around her best friend's neck in gratitude.

The soldiers led Helen away. She stared coldly at them all and said not a word.

Cutter had to ask the question: "What will you do with her?"

"Oh the usual", Sir James replied. "Search, imprison, question. One way or another I'm sure we can get something useful out of her."

"If she talks. But if I know Helen, she's said all you're gonna hear from her tonight."

"Do you know how to kill a cat, Cutter?"

"Come again?"

"In a brief spat, with an annoying neighbour who's pet moggy continually - " Lester paused, distastefully "- _Mates_ on my property in a loud, caterwauling fashion, I decided to turn to the internet for advice. It transpires there are many ways, both humane, and inhumane to kill a cat."

"I don't see how this is relevant."

"Well you know how I like a challenge, Cutter. Consider Helen the cat. One way or another I will find a method of getting rid of her. Or at least having her sufficiently neutered that she is no longer a problem."

_I always forget how ruthless a man James Lester is._

"I hope you don't mean having her tortured?"

"Alas, no. Official state permission for such things is a lengthy, difficult process which would take quite literally months. Oh, for a simpler time, eh?"

Cutter just stared.

"Joke. Rest assured Cutter, your wife will be well treated. Though not so well treated, perhaps as she could be. Don't want to set a precedent."

Cutter nodded once, then said "She's not my wife."

With that he turned on his heel, and went to comfort his exhausted team.

**Thanks for reading...**

**What Does Helen Really Want?**

**Please Review!**


	8. Chapter 8: Conversations About Love

**More Conby Anyone? Well it was JUST Valentine's Day!**

**Wow, here's Chapter 8!**

**Thanks for reading, enjoying and reviewing (hint hint! ;) )**

**Don't Own – If I did my bank account would be much fuller.**

_She was right there. Right there. So close he could just reach out and..._

With a grunt and a jerk, Connor woke up. His watch told him it was 2am, and he was entirely exhausted. Once again his mind wandered wistfully to a tame office job.

_It would have desks_, Connor mused, _and swivel chairs. I think I'd like a swivel chair. And there'd be a photocopier, which people performed unspeakable acts on at Christmas parties. If anyone stayed at work past seven, someone would call security. Nobody would have a gun, and the biggest danger in the place would be tripping over a telephone cord._

_Then again... No Abby._

Connor – of course – had been dreaming of her. In the past he had dreamed steamy dreams – the kind of stupid fantasies students had. But he'd grown up since then, and realised life was too short for such unattainable pleasures.

These days his dreams were rather more simple: The smell of her hair, her perfume. The colour of her eyes when she laughed. How she looked in the morning with no makeup and in desperate need of a cup of tea. Still...

"So beautiful..." Connor murmured.

"Thanks, Connor."

"Whuh?!"

With a groan, Connor realised he had once again dozed off, as he looked up into the eyes of Professor Cutter – eyes which were crinkled with amusement. Cutter, too looked exhausted.

"Whoever you were dreaming about, I'm sorry I woke you", Cutter said, "You looked very content."

Connor felt a blush creep up his cheeks and thanked God for his carefully cultivated stubble.

"Nah," he replied – with what he hoped was nonchalance – "She's better in person anyway."

Cutter chuckled, "I'll bet she is. Oh, to be young and in love."

"You say that like you've given up hope."

"Not quite yet. But better to be _young_ and in love than _old_ and in love. I think when you're young it's easy to overcome the many obstacles life throws in your way."

"Not that easy, Cutter."

"Perhaps not. But I'm definitely not qualified to advise on matters of the heart. Bones and big rips in Space and Time are far more my scene. Which brings me back to what I'm here for. I'm sorry to do this to you, Connor, but the interrogation is still going on, and my shift's up."

"Interrogation? Oh. Helen. Yeah, I'd forgotten. That's _still _going on? My God."

"_Lester_," Cutter said grimly, in the same tone of voice he used for words such as_ creature_ and _anomaly_ - Both an explanation and a curse. " I did try telling him he'd get nothing out of her, but a stubborner man I've not met since... Well, me!"

Connor paused a moment, trying to crack some of the painful bones in his neck – sore after slumping in a chair not designed for easy rest.

"Something you have in common at long last. Abby owes me a fiver! But remind me again why _we_ need to be there?"

"Protocol, I'm told. Witnesses to ensure nobody sticks a flaming poker in the prisoner's eye or something. Although, by the look on Lester's face as he explained that, I reckon he'd rather dispense with the niceties and break open the torture chamber."

"What's scary is that I know you're only half joking."

Cutter chuckled in a way that only he could. But he knew the conversation wasn't over, and his grin fell in to a sympathetic smile.

"You're afraid, aren't you Connor?"

"Afraid? Me? No! Course I'm not... She's just a _person_! Things I've seen, you think I'd be scared of one person?"

"You can tell me, Connor."

So he had seen through the bravado. Connor's mouth dried.

"I held a gun to her head, Cutter," he whispered brokenly, "I held a _gun_ to a woman's head. And I wanted to shoot so badly. She made me so angry I wasn't me anymore. I don't ever want to feel that way again."

"I know, I know, " Cutter murmured, laying a hand on his friend's shoulder. Connor's eyes filled with tears. "What brought you back from that brink, Connor?"

"It was knowing that if I killed her... How let down you'd all be. You're so honourable. Abby always tries to see the best in people – she wouldn't hurt a fly. And Stephen... who died to save her life along with everyone else's. That's what stopped me pulling the trigger."

"You won't be alone in there, you know. You're not the only witness."

"Who else?"

"Abby. She'll be there with you, all the way through."

"Thanks Cutter." Connor sniffed back his emotion and made to stand.

"You're welcome. I never got the chance to say thanks. You saved a life today. You were very brave and it made me very... proud. Well done." Cutter clapped him on the shoulder again.

Making his way to the door, Connor turned, "Why were you never a Father professor?"

Cutter looked surprised at the question. "Helen was never broody like some women are. And then, obviously she disappeared. Now I would never, for the simple reason of the danger. I would never want a child of mine without its parents."

"It's a shame. You'd be a good one," he turned again, "Hang on _parents_. As in plural?"

Cutter looked rather discomfited. "Well biology dictates you need two people to create a child, yes. And maybe... Well you never know who might get mixed up in the ARC."

Connor glanced at Jenny, who was nursing a mug of coffee at her desk, and raised an eyebrow at Cutter.

"What?" Cutter asked.

"Nothing!" Connor raised his hands innocently. "Should I go?"

"Yeah I think you'd better."

"Right... Interrogation."

***

In the bowels of the ARC was a dark room. Connor had seen the room before, in CCTV footage of Helen's previous interrogation – he remembered the lit-up table, the dark walls, all of it.

Being inside was a different experience.

Helen Cutter sat in the same seat, with the same stony expression. Little had changed, except that they perhaps had all gotten a little older.

As Connor sat, Abby squeezed his hand.

"Lester's gonna run out of energy soon," she whispered.

Sir James did indeed look at the end of his tether. His ordinarily spotless shirt was unbuttoned at the neck, and his fancy tie was loose. He had grown red in the face from shouting questions at the silent woman before him.

"Tell us what you know about anomalies!"

Silence reigned. Worn out, as predicted, Lester slumped into a chair, face in his hands.

For a time nobody spoke. Then Connor broke the silence.

"Why'd you come here?"

Helen merely raised an eyebrow.

"No but really. Aside from a mutual interest in anomalies, what is there to bring you to the ARC?"

Helen sighed.

"How old do you think I am, Connor?"

Momentarily, he couldn't think, he was so surprised.

"Uh... Well you left your own time for the Permian, so... 290 million years... Give or take?"

Abby sniggered, then covered it with a cough. Lester guffawed – doubtless surprised at Connor's wit. Helen's only sign of amusement was a tiny quirk of the lips. She was self-controlled to an incredible degree.

"Not quite that old. Want to know the truth?"

Connor nodded, slowly.

"I don't even know anymore. It's hard to measure the days when you're always on the move. I have no roots, not even an age to tie me anymore. I am... absent. And so are you all here. Like attracts like, Connor."

"No offence, but I _really_ don't think we have that much in common."

"I disagree," Helen smirked .

"OhhhKay. New question. What do you miss about humanity?"

Helen pouted. "How long have you got? A hot shower, meat feast pizza, cold beer, fresh from the fridge... NHS – number of bites and scrapes I've had. Sex and the City-" Helen broke off at Connor's expression. "What? You think I don't miss girly things? Tampons, perfume, getting dressed up to make my husband's eyes pop... My husband."

For a short moment, Connor saw a chink in Helen's armour. Evidently she was still taking Cutter's rejection badly. He could use that. But Connor Temple was not an interrogator – in fact he was a big softy. He glossed over the sadness in her voice before Lester picked up on it and subjected them to another tirade.

"If you miss so much, then why not come back?"

"Because of the things I don't miss. Consumerism, vandalism, sexism, racism, cruelty to animals the destruction of our beautiful planet. Abby agrees, don't you?"

Connor looked round to see Abby slowly nodding. When she caught his gaze she jerked.

"_Abby?!_"

"_Well_!" Abby cried defiantly, "Lots of what she's saying makes sense!"

_Like she's hypnotised_, Connor thought. And had an idea.

"Okay, so there's a lot wrong with the world. How are you going to change it from running away?"

"And what makes you think I'm running away?" Helen murmured coquettishly, "I'm _experimenting_, Connor."

"What does that mean?"

"The world changed once... Remember Nick and Claudia Brown? No? Proof that the world could change around your ears and you'd never know the difference. What I want is to work with that – if I can figure out the conditions for this sort of change, I could reshape the world and make it _better_!"

"What happens if you get it wrong?"

"The Universe is much bigger than you or I, Connor. Make a mistake, and it will right itself naturally – Jenny Lewis is proof of that."

"What if you're wrong? Maybe we're passed saving."

Helen smiled. "There's an answer for that too."

"Which is?"

Helen opened her mouth, then started and laughed. "Oh, you're good. Much subtler than Lester. Smarter than they give you credit for. I almost told you everything. But you'll get nothing more out of me."

Connor sighed, almost talked out. But he had one more thing to say.

"Aren't you tired?"

Helen blinked. He continued.

"I know, a great big lofty cause and whatnot, but... In your heart of hearts, when you're camping under some tree in the Jurassic or fending off some creature, don't you just get... tired? And want to come home to your husband, and your suburban house. Put up your feet and eat pizza, watch TV and get an early night? Don't you just want to _sleep_?"

Connor clicked his fingers, and Helen's eyes drooped and she slumped to the table in a doze. He stood up and walked round the white table to where she lay. He whispered something in her ear, then turned and walked out.

"Take care of her and let her sleep. No promises she'll be more cooperative in the morning, but I think she'll at least answer your questions."

"Well done, Connor," Lester replied somewhat grudgingly, "Finally we know some of her aims."

Connor merely gave him a thumbs up.

Abby followed him, and they both slumped onto a couch in the recreation area, worn out. Abby laid a small hand on his shoulder.

"Where did you learn to hypnotise people, Con?"

"Internet", he grinned, "The key is putting a happy thought into their heads."

"Seriously?"

"Maybe. Dunno. Seemed to work pretty well, to me."

"Have you ever tried it on yourself? What happens?"

Connor shook his head, "If I need hypnotised, there's another person who does it for me."

"Who", Abby asked curiously.

"That, Abby Maitland, is a state secret. Like I'd ever let you know my weakness, you evil genius!"

_She was right there. Right there. So close he could just reach out and..._

He pulled her into a hug.

In his arms, he held Abby Maitland. He could smell her hair and her perfume. When he looked down he could tell by the colour of her eyes that she was laughing. She looked worn out, with smudged makeup and tousled hair – and in desperate need of a cup of tea.

And that was exactly how Connor Temple liked her.

**Big Long Chappie to make up for the dry spell**

**Reviews? Please?**


	9. Chapter 9: It's Good to Be the King

**It's been a long time, but inspiration has finally returned... And with it, it brought a new chapter!**

**I don't own Primeval. I do own a laptop, an imagination and ten fingers – which is basically all one needs to write a Fanfic!**

_Dear Mr Minister,_

_Thank you for your last memo, regarding the team efficiency issue I raised. I was surprised, to discover your fondness for the way our Professor Cutter is currently managing the field work. However, I am, as always delighted to hear that you consider my management adequate._

_I hope you will consider the occasional team-building liaisons to go on between the main ARC team, and the Secondary Anomaly Control Unit, at the Home Office. Especially since you regard the occasionally eccentric work of Professor Cutter so illuminating. No doubt a session with Cutter would give the Secondary Unit an education in his many radical (not to say far-fetched) theories on the reasons and conditions which create the anomalies. It is even possible that Cutter may benefit from liaising with a team which is not quite so shy of shooting aggressive creatures._

_With regard to the Secondary Control Unit, I would like to thank yourself and the whole Home Office for being so accommodating, regarding this idea. Why just today, their implementation proved invaluable when-_

Lester paused. "Wait a moment, Lorraine. Scratch that last part. Don't want to alert the Minister to the _total inefficiency_ which led to this blasted quarantine."

"Actually, Sir," Lorraine replied, "the Minister will have already heard about the quarantine. In the event of this, or another such protocol being activated, one memo is sent to the Secondary Unit, another to the Minister to inform him of the temporary measures."

Sir James sucked his teeth, as he calmly processed this.

"Whose idea was this?"

"The Quarantine was designed by the Professor, in case of any form of ancient disease coming through an anomaly. The actual system was installed in security by Connor Temple a short time afterwards."

" I mean the double memos," Lester said, barely controlling his impatience.

"Those were your idea, Sir."

James Lester decided this was a good time for a long, disparaging sigh. After he had blown the greater part of his pique out of his lungs, he turned his swivel chair to face his secretary.

"When will people learn not to pay any attention to anything I suggest after a long lunch with the Minister? A long period of playing to the man's vanity always seriously alters my decision making skills. Right, tell him... Tell him... Oh I don't know! I'll deal with this later."

"Yes, Sir James," Lorraine said gently, and left the room.

Leaving him alone with his headache. The ARC was silent in the way that every place is silent in the cold and God-awful nonplace between the night and the morning. Lester had no wish to fall asleep in his executive chair. He knew that doing that would only result in waking with a shout a few hours later, having been ripped from his usual nightmare. He would be no better rested, and if the team saw him...

_Oh, the indignity._

Lester shook himself. Just a few more hours and the bloody quarantine would be over. And he'd personally take the opportunity to decommission the protocols. If he knew how, that is. He tried again.

_I will personally oversee Connor's removal of the protocols._

Perhaps it was the exhaustion, or the pounding in his head, but he felt that his normally industrial-strength authority was a little on the wane tonight. He clicked a small icon on the top-left of his computer screen, bringing up several CCTV pictures. He clicked through several idly, images of the team, technicians and soldiers flashed past.

Briefly he paused at the image of the whole field team standing around a bench laughing and drinking from mugs.

Tea, Lester assumed. Then did a double take. He zoomed in on the bench, where an almost-empty bottle of whisky sat.

_Note to self. Remind all personnel... Oh why bother? I could murder a drink myself_, he thought tetchily.

He clicked on the final image, and up popped the CCTV on Helen's cell. She slept on a thickly padded blue mattress. In Lester's eyes, it look far too comfortable for a reprobate like Helen Cutter. But the government _would_ insist on all these standards and watchdogs.

He couldn't help feeling aggrieved that the woman they'd been chasing fruitlessly for almost three years was getting a better night's sleep than him. Despite how much more pleasant she was when she was unconscious. Lester had liked that little trick of Connor's. Perhaps the boy was more use than he'd originally thought...

A knock on the glass door roused him from his wanderings. The same nervous technician who had made the announcement earlier seemed to be wrestling with Connor at the door.

"Come in!" Lester called. As the door opened, he heard a snatch of Connor pleading with the technician.

"Come on, it's no big deal! Just stick 'em under the tap, they'll be good as new. Just wait, _please- _"

"Yes?" Lester asked.

The technician reached into his pocket, a little out of breath from his exchange with Connor.

"We believe we have discovered the source of the potential virus which has caused the quarantine. At first we thought it was a simple swab from an unconscious creature. That is, until we found this."

The technician reached into his pocket and retrieved what appeared to be a pair of soggy black socks in a polythene bag. Lester stared at the bag for a count of ten seconds before barking,

"Well?"

"This is an item of clothing which we found in one of the team's locker."

"Which," piped up Connor, his voice muffled by the glass, "is a massive invasion of privacy".

"The staff member has asked to remain nameless," the technician continued, with a strange jerk of the neck. The jerk drew Lester's eye to Connor, whose hands were pressed against the shiny glass of the door. Lester gave a tiny shudder at the thought of his greasy fingerprints on the door. Then he did a double take – Connor's hands. The same hands he'd kept hidden behind his back earlier. The same hands which he'd gestured expansively with while talking to Jenny.

Only now there was a difference. Now his hands were bare. Lester looked from Connor's stricken, puppy-dog face to the bag and back again. He sighed and beckoned the young computer expert into the office.

_Maybe not so useful after all._

As soon as he entered, Connor began to babble. "Now before you sack me, or throw me into the next Permian anomaly you find, I can totally explain-"

Lester raised a hand, automatically silencing him.

"Save your explanations Connor. It's this kind of wonderful ineptitude which keeps me from ever truly believing you're the genius everyone seems to think you are. So far you've only had... Oh, two or three disasters this week?"

"Look if this is about that shopping trolley, when you're running from three fast, angry Raptorex, all you think about is speed. Don't get more speedy than a trolley on a hill! I just didn't take the brake situation into account..."

Lester once again raised his Silencing Hand. "Thankfully the Lollipop Man was easily consoled with a small out of court settlement. For now, I simply want to know how much damage Connor's done tonight."

The technician smiled wearily. "Well the good news is that the virus seems to only be harmful to a few insects and other such small invertebrates. The bad news is that the protocols require we remain in the ARC for twenty four hours before the situation is reviewed by experts."

Lester frowned. "I see. And we're certain it's not harmful to humans?"

"No Sir. Not to humans. Probably not even to the invertebrates, anymore. They will have massively evolved."

"In that case I see no harm in breaking the quarantine!"

"But Sir," the technician blustered, "We're sealed in! The kind of knowledge it would take to overcome the ARC's security programming..."

"Well it's a good thing we have a computer expert. One who knows this system inside out. Practically designed it himself."

Sir James and the technician turned in unison to look at Connor, who had zoned out and was spinning Lester's antique globe, amusedly.

"What?," he asked as he noticed their eyes on him.

"Well to sum up, Connor, close down the quarantine and get us out of here."

Connor gaped. "It's nearly three-thirty in the morning! Not even a genius can work at this time of night!"

Lester lowered his tone, to the same one he used when talking to his seven year-old son when he took a tantrum.

"Let me put it another way. Get us out of the quarantine, Connor, or I'll personally telephone the Home Office and find out if by lucky chance any Permian anomalies have opened lately."

Comprehension dawned on Connor's utterly transparent, readable face. "Yes Sir! Right away!" He sketched a small salute and trotted to the door, followed by the rather disgruntled technician. As he left, Lester could hear him muttering "Quarantine protocols. That links up interior scanners, bacteria analysis and the outer perimeter. So I'll need trapdoor passwords and some encoding..."

Lester smiled and leaned back in his chair. He felt secure in his authority once more. And that felt good. He looked down at the CCTV again. _King of all he surveyed_, he thought contentedly. He leaned in and spoke into the intercom.

"This is a reminder to all personnel. Drinking within the ARC is strictly prohibited. Unless you offer the boss a glass, too."

He chuckled to himself as a small pixellated Connor choked while sipping an even tinier pixellated mug, and looked over his shoulder. The screen flashed once again to Helen Cutter's cell where she slept on, looking strangely peaceful. Watching her made Lester's eyelids grow heavy. He blinked once or twice, before giving into the lateness of the hour and the stresses of the day.

Lorraine entered, a question about the memo on her lips before seeing him lying back and snoring lightly. With an almost motherly smile she dimmed the lights, and closed the door behind her, softly.

Nobody watched Helen Cutter's cell, now. So nobody saw her fingers lightly twitch, and her eyelids flutter.

**Yay for the return! Yay for the reviews! Yay for the shameless requests!**


	10. Chapter 10: Strange, Unanswerable Enigma

**P is for perseverance. P is for prolific. P is for Primeval!**

**Blah blah DON'T OWN, blah blah HUMOROUS SPEECH, blah blah y'all know the drill!**

It was strange how someone who was in perpetual motion while they worked could turn into a shuffling zombie when the word housework was mentioned.

It was strange how someone who appeared to cultivate "designer" (his words, no one else's) stubble could have such a soft face.

It was strange how you could meet a person and find them repellently annoying, then wake one morning to the realisation you couldn't wait to hear their cheery voice.

It was strange how some men made three clashing colours work as an ensemble.

It was strange how a body could fit into the routine of being both disaster and genius at the same time – a lesser lifeform would burst.

It was strange how sometimes he acted like an alien, then turned around and did such human, humane things.

It was strange that his gawky, adolescent-awkward body held a strange grace at times. When his fingers fled across keyboards with precision and speed; when his knee bounced, unable to contain his nervous energy... When a fluid movement pulled her into his warm embrace.

Strange...

How...

She...

Couldn't...

Stop...

_Staring!_

"... What are you staring at? Abby? Anyone home?"

"Mm?" Abby jerked, and the world came back into focus. "Sorry Connor, think I was sleeping with my eyes open again."

Connor raised an eyebrow. "Riiiight. You know you're kind of a weirdo when you're sleep deprived?"

Abby blushed and hung her head, faking humiliation to hide the very real embarrassment she felt at suddenly being caught staring – _drooling_ – at her best friend.

"Sorry."

"S'okay," he replied cheerfully, "Makes me feel at home to know even _you_ are capable of being socially awkward!" Momentarily, his grin u-turned into a frown. "Seriously though Abby, try and rest. We've been here for _hours_, you must be exhausted. I know I am."

"I know," Abby said, her voice husky and hoarse as it always was when she needed to sleep, "It's just I can't drop off in this place. I can't disassociate it with work and anomalies and red alerts!"

Connor had already turned back to the control centre, and was unsuccessfully attempting to type on three keyboards at once, while timing something on his pocket-watch.

"If I can just rig this right, and override the protocols we'll be out of here... _Why_ hasn't man evolved to have four hands? Sorry Abby, I wish I could help more, but I swear if I don't break the quarantine I'm gonna have a _really_ pissed of Lester on my hands."

"You're right. Sorry, I'll get lost for a bit."

Abby heard, rather than saw him turn a moment later, watching her walk away. She could see his face in her mind's eye, a little stricken at the thought that he'd been tactless, said the wrong thing, upset her. She pictured him struggling to frame the right words. She heard him sigh, and turn around again.

He had saved her life tonight. Again. There would be no more heroism from Connor – when his mind was technology bound, there was no reaching him.

Abby drifted from room to room of the ARC, simply following where her feet took her. She was aimless, her thoughts had no progression – tiny worms of conscious thought occasionally swept past, before being replaced by others.

Suddenly, an odd wall of green block her path. It was textured, woven. Abby reached out and touched the wall with the tips of her fingers. It was a hardy cloth, rough-textured but somehow soft. Abby looked up to see how far the wall reached and jumped as the piercing blue eyes of Nick Cutter looked down on her quizzically.

"Abby," the Professor smiled and gently detached her hands from his tweed jacket, "You need to get some sleep girl, you're practically catatonic with exhaustion."

"Catatonic? Yeah, that's not good is it?"

"No love, it's not good. Here, lie down in there." Cutter led Abby gently into his lab and set her down on his couch. The warm jacket settled on her shoulders a moment later – the small part of Abby's brain which was still switched on whispered, _Remember to thank him for this later... When you've stopped being a bloody fool!_

Abby thought she heard Cutter mutter something like " What the hell is Connor playing at?"

"Mmm, protocols. Trying to break quaran-" a massive yawn separated the word before she could finish it "-tine. Lester. Big trouble".

Cutter sighed heavily, and that was the last thing Abby heard before unconsciousness claimed her.

Her dreams were bright and vibrant, and the colour of fairytales. When she woke she instinctively knew she had only slept a few hours, yet she felt refreshed. The first thing she saw was Connor, still tapping away at the keyboard.

Wait. Wasn't he in the control room working on the main console?

"What are you doing here, Con?"

Connor gave a little jump at the sound of her voice, "You're awake! Um, hi. Sleep well?"

"Yeeeeeeeeaahh," Abby elongated the word as it became a stretch and yawn, "But you still haven't explained what you're doing."

"Oh this? I rigged the main ADD console so that the software channelled through Cutter's computer, then with the use of another trapdoor..." Connor tailed off at the sight of Abby's blank expression, "Well, basically I patched into the main system so I could work from here."

"Cool... Why?"

"I, uh, spoke to Cutter. He said you were tired, and kind of ill, so I thought I should come in. Just keep an eye on you, make sure you didn't... Um, have bad dreams or something."

Abby smiled. "That's really sweet". She felt her eyes beginning to tear up, and felt a little shocked. _Strange how someone who's just a friend can cause me such strong emotion..._ Abby's head was beginning to hurt. She didn't know how she felt about Connor Temple. Abby Maitland did not like being out of control. But then Connor grinned at her, warmth in his brown eyes and she decided that _being undecided_ didn't matter. She just loved being around him. He was Connor, and she was Abby, and for now that was all that counted.

"Abby?" Connor said, "Listen earlier, I was gonna say something..."

"Oh yeah," she giggled, "But your fly was down, right?"

"Yeah. Cringe-factor! Then again, so's saying "cringe-factor", I'll steer clear of _that_ catchphrase, in future!"

"Con, do you notice when you ramble, or does it just come naturally?"

"Yeah. Sorry. Anyway, earlier, what I was trying to say was... Well I'd really like to... Tell you-"

Cutter's computer made a bleep, and Connor's whole body jerked towards it, like the technology (and the thought of Lester) controlled him like a puppet.

"Am I in? Oh, say I'm in!" The computer made another sound, this time a clang. Then another clang. His face fell. "That's not right. That's not... No. No! Nonononono! Oh hell, Abby it's just wiped two hours of work!" Connor's fingers flew across the keyboard, as he tried to regain the lost ground, but his expression told her it was useless.

"This isn't just an error. It's not protecting the protocols, it's not any kind of firewall... Abby, I haven't designed this! This is coming from somewhere else. Someone in the ARC's reprogramming our system!"

The overhead sirens began to flash red, and the on the screen the words _Security Breach_ flashed brightly. Technicians and soldiers ran about, in what looked to Abby like random panic. Cutter appeared at the door of the lab, his face ashen with shock.

"Helen's escaped. God knows how, but she's loose in the ARC somewhere."

"She's rifling through my programming! I dunno whether to be _insulted_ or _impressed_! I've spent months working on that stuff, I thought nothing-"

"_Connor!_" Cutter shouted "Now's not the time for your technogeekery, we have to find Helen."

Abby swallowed convulsively, as she looked out of Cutter's lab window. She raised a finger and pointed, "Found her."

In the main control room stood Helen Cutter, her mad eyes triumphantly staring round the ARC. And behind her, stood a flickering, decidedly open anomaly. The panic and sirens slowed around Abby, as she watched the mad woman. The night threw yet another unanswerable enigma in her face.

_Strange_, Abby thought, _How she always seems to get her way._


End file.
